


petty cash paramnesia

by darium



Category: Persona 5
Genre: 5 years after royal, Akechi Goro is alive, Amnesia, Bad coping mechanisms, Fake Love Triangle, Hanahaki Disease, I FORGOT TO PUT THE TAGS BEFORE PUBLISHING, Love Triangle, M/M, Not Really Character Death, Older Characters, POV Second Person, Phantom Thieves disbanded, Reader has Hanahaki Disease, Reader uses He/Him, Reader's hanahaki is weird and he knows it, Slow Burn, Some angst?, Unrequited Love, reader has amnesia, reader smokes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:07:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26804128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darium/pseuds/darium
Summary: Everything that you knew of love could be condensed into an eighteen page patient dossier, or even a sentence; you fall in love, you grow a garden, and, at the brink of death, you forget it. Hanahaki is a strange disease by all accounts, but it really was the closest thing you remembered of falling in love.After losing your memories for a third time due to your strange strain of the disease, you consider that maybe it was time to step back away from the world. But, the universe has other plans.or.instead of dying from growing a garden, you forget about falling in love with two boys; Akira Kurusu, and Akechi Goro. After you latest garden, you are determined to figure out more concerning your illness, but also avoid the perils of falling in love again. Unfortunately, it seems like your old loves haven't forgotten about you yet.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Original Character(s), Akechi Goro/Original Male Character(s), Akechi Goro/Reader, Implied Akira Kurusu/Original Character(s), Implied Akira Kurusu/Original Male Character(s), Implied Akira Kurusu/Reader
Comments: 42
Kudos: 50





	1. the soil i stand on

Perhaps the first thing that you got used to after leaving the hospital was visiting Leblanc. It was a small café in Yongen-Jaya, which wasn’t actually your suburb, but your feet took you there anyway. You’d make a joke about your muscles having more memory than you did, but you felt it would be in poor taste. The café was something that you figured you visited a lot in a past life (the thought of calling the gaps in your memory a past life was funny, and somewhat sickeningly positive) and slowly it became a place you treasured.

It seemed like the café was decently busy – a group of people had already been seated, filling up a far few seats – so your arrival inside wasn’t as conspicuous as you had hoped it to be. You ignored them, and hoped they would do the same. You liked it better when it was quieter, but at least Sakura was at the counter.

“Kid.” He nodded.

You smiled. “Sir.”

You slid the brown paper bag you were carrying across the counter, where he inspected the goods inside. As per tradition, you had visited a bakery beforehand and acquired some bribery.

Whilst Sojiro Sakura (or Boss, as he preferred you to call him as) was pretty strict when it came to bringing outside food into his café, he had always let you bring in blueberry muffins – so long as you brought him one as well. You figured it was his way of showing approval, which he hid under the guise of ‘providing a fee for bringing in food he didn’t cook’. It felt odd thinking for such an old man, he was surprisingly shy.

He pushed the bag back towards you, setting aside one of the muffins for himself. He nodded towards the end of the café, where there was an empty booth – your usual. “You’re clear. I’ll brew up something for you.”

You were grateful for his courtesy and set off to your seat. You were not afraid of strangers and neither did you feel any sort of adversity talking to them, but you weren’t one to socialise until talked to – having a seat set aside for you was not only a privilege, but adhered to your personal policy of alone time.

As you set your things down on the counter, you did a head count of them; a blueberry muffin (of which you were impartial to), some gloves, a bag with a single, dried flower, and a scrapbook. You reached over into your coat and pulled out a pen that you had unfortunately nicked from the hospital’s front desk. They wouldn’t miss it.

Visiting Leblanc after waking up from growing a garden was routine, and something you got surprisingly used to, despite it happening only three times. Hanahaki disease was something uncommon and not very understood. Having plants grow from seemingly nowhere and bloom without a source of sunlight was an impossibility and a reality for some – flowers that could strangle you from the inside was something beyond humanity’s current understanding of science.

So, a case like yours typically didn’t do any favours for the scientific community, aside from being a source of data.

Repeat Hanahaki Disease, or RHD, was unluckily your legacy onto this world, being the very first person to have it. There was bad news and good news associated with your condition; the good news was that you wouldn’t die to just one garden, and the bad news was you’d probably die with the next. It wasn’t ideal, to say at the very least, but at least the doctors took their victories where they could.

You opened up the scrapbook to a new page, passing the other two flowers already pressed and stuck onto its pages, notes filling up the edges. This was a book of your thoughts and failures, and you came to Leblanc to add another. Funnily enough, you think, you never had the same flower cough up twice. In your mind, you translated this as never falling in love the same way, which was romantic in its own right, and you despised how poetic you could make your illness be. It was a talent.

Taking out the bag and putting on the gloves, you went to work.

It wasn’t particularly normal for you to need gloves but you were told that if you wanted to take one of your coughed up flowers, you’d need protection. You held the bag to your face, inspecting the flower. The vibrant purple of its petals had dulled, and it was dry enough you could tell that it would flake soon. It was not as perfect as the other flowers you had brought here, and you chose to ignore the distinct stain of something dark on it's petals.

“Angel’s trumpet. That stuff is poisonous.” You looked up to see that you locked eyes with a pale, curly-haired individual. He was wearing the dark green apron that Sakura typically wore behind the counter, holding – presumably – your coffee. Was this an early Christmas casual? Maybe a part-time who you’d never met before?

The stranger’s explanation gave reason to why the nurses were so reluctant to hand over the flowers – you just assumed that they were finally being open about how odd they thought your habit was. You knew you were someone people found hard to approach, largely because of the constructed atmosphere of solidarity that you gave off. That, and the nurses probably found it strange to collect the very things that tried killing you.

You gave him a placid smile. “That’s interesting; I didn’t realise.” You were told the flower had drug-like effects, but not that it was _poisonous_. “Guess that’s why they gave me protection, huh?”

Your eyes flickered over to the group, whose attention was now more on you than before, despite their attempts to be subtle. You recognized one of them, surprisingly enough; Sakamoto Ryuji. He seemed to have let his natural colour through again, though kept the general spikiness of it. You hadn’t seen him since high-school, or so your memory would have you believe, and he still had such a loud atmosphere.

You and he made eye-contact, making him flinch and turn around. You definitely knew each other then. There was a smile that tried to grace itself on your face, one that felt amusement at people who recognized you scrambling to figure out where they stand with your partial amnesia. It was mean to say, but sometimes, it was better to find humor in people’s reactions.

The stranger put down the coffee. “Boss made you a flat white.” There was a pause. “I figured you were more of cappuccino person, but I guess I was wrong.”

That irked you a little, but you chose to let it slide. You would think he knew nothing about you. What made him think he knew you? You had your own theories, but you smiled instead of entertaining them. “I might’ve been at one point. Thanks for bringing it over.”

“…Yeah, no problem.”

You turned away from him, taking a sip off Sakura’s coffee – which was good, that much you could tell. The focus you had returned, and you shifted your gaze onto the flower. Interested by what he meant as poisonous, you took your phone out and did a quick boogle search for ‘ _angels trumpet poison_ ’.

> All parts of **angel’s trumpets** are considered **poisonous** and contain the alkaloids atropine, scopolamine, and hyoscyamine. Ingestion of the plants can cause disturbing hallucinations, paralysis, tachycardia, and memory loss and can be fatal.

You laughed a bit at the memory loss, but it seemed like the worker was right. You didn’t remember much concerning the effects of the flower when its garden was growing, but there was a faint sense of agreement when you read the word ‘hallucinations’. It must have been an intoxicating sort of love.

Afterwards, you continued doing what you initially came to do, and press the plant onto a blank page. You put a sheet of thin plastic over it, gluing the edges to lock the flower in. You didn’t want your painstaking work go to waste, after all. And, what if the flower fell into food? It was poisonous, after all.

Once that was done with, you began to write notes of whatever came to mind. It was mundane, boring – normal. And yet, it was the sort of average you thought was good for you. A ritual made things normal, you rationalized, and you needed normal. All the bad habits that you picked up over the years weren’t the things that could help you – normalcy, however, could.

Pleased with the end result, you got ready to head off to pursue the rest of the day. You mentally ran through the list of errands you needed to collect before heading back to your apartment (something, thankfully, you definitely remember). As you headed towards the door, you nodded to Sakura, who curtly nodded back.

“Hold up.” The worker again. What did he want? “Take this.”

In his hands was a small, clear bag which had a single slice of cake in it. You were not a person who refused gifts, nor were you someone who was willing to antagonize a random person by making a show of giving a gift to a stranger.

You smiled again. How very convenient they were, being able to hide so much. “I don’t I’ve done anything to deserve this, but thanks! You must’ve had leftovers; I’ll enjoy it.”

On closer inspection, you saw that the bag had writing on it. It was a number and a name.

_Akira Kurusu. +00 XXX XXX XXX._

You gave him a confused look. What exactly was he doing?

In face of your silence, he looked like he was reaching to adjust glasses that he didn’t have, and then in realization, dropped his hand.

“A friend,” He said, but why did you feel like he was asking you? “I’m a friend.”

What an awkward man. You were pretty sure he was the same age as you, but why was he so… lanky in attempt to know you. As someone who enjoyed the poor reactions of others, you were a little amused at his efforts. It wouldn’t hurt to recruit another person into your growing army of acquaintances, so you held out your free hand.

“Why didn’t you just say so, Kurusu?” A grin adorned your face as he tentatively gripped your hand. “Friends it is.”

There was a split second where Kurusu’s face overlapped with someone who looked like a younger, brighter version of him. The way his grey eyes, obscured by an illusion of glasses, lit up was unmistakable.

You felt your grin fall a little. This wasn’t an acquaintanceship you were building.

The universe has funny ways of tricking you and even more extraordinary ways of bringing about chaos in your life, something of which you knew. You always had known that peace struggled to find you, and you wondered if perhaps it was just because fate dictated it truly despised you, or, like yourself, it found amusement in watching you wriggle uncomfortably.

Seeing double, you hoped it would grow bored soon.


	2. syringa vulgaris

Lilacs are typically known as the flower of first loves. They are also considered as purifying plants that ease anxiety and stress, and encourage relaxation.

# . . .

You thought about your encounter with Kurusu as you stood in the smoker’s alley, lighting up a cigarette. Your personality dictated that you were someone who kept their suspicions to themselves, and would try to focus of solid facts instead of feelings and vibes. Guesswork in your life was a godforsaken landmine of a place, and you would prefer not to be blown to pieces.

That being said, it was undeniable that Kurusu was trying to get to know you, and you figured that the group in the café earlier were actually his friends waiting him to finish his shift. He definitely knew you; that much was certain, and he definitely had some sort of goal in befriending you ‘again’.

You sighed. Wasn’t this a little too much right now?

All your errands were done, not that there were many; you had picked up everything you needed to – you had gone to the chemist for some prescription pills to help with suppressing gardens and some over-the-counter ibuprofen, then to the butchers to grab some mince. It wasn’t much, but you decided to stop before heading home for a quick smoke.

You couldn’t remember when you started smoking – it wasn’t something you admired in others, and it certainly wasn’t something you admired in yourself. Still, you would find yourself with a pack of cigarettes in your hand, without ever remembering why. You probably picked it up because you thought you thought death was going to come to you either way – the hanahaki was destroying your lungs with roots faster than the nicotine could.

You exhaled smoke, hating the way it tasted. The scent of the petals was at least fragrant.

The alley was colder than you first anticipated. It wasn’t as if you really minded, though you definitely thought that the weather was taking a toll for the worst. You took it as a sign that you should be heading home soon.

Before you could, a face you hadn't expected to see popped up in the alleyway.

Your memories of Akechi Goro were vague and unforgiving; you couldn’t tell if you were supposed to like him or hate him. The thing you really only remembered was back in high-school, he was involved in a _lot_. Did you care about him being here, or did you not? In comparison, he seemed to not be bothered. In fact, it looked more like he was unimpressed.

“It’s you.” His dull red eyes searched your appearance, evaluating it. It confirmed that he knew you, decently well if he could judge you. His eyes were on your lit smoke. “I never thought I’d see you smoking.”

It sounded like he wanted to say more about that, but you let it slide. Akechi probably was the type of person who remembered you, but you didn’t remember them. Your hanahaki was interesting as it erased the memories of loving someone, so if someone else was involved in those memories, they were typically forgotten too. You recalled what small memory you had of the man in front of you, and assumed he was collateral.

How sad it must for people to have known a facet of you that might not have existed anymore. You smile. “It’s the way the world works; people change all the time. Unexpectedly, too.”

He scoffed, but you noticed it was half-heartedly. You thought you’ve confirmed something for him, but you’re not sure what, making you a wholly frustrated, but you simmered down quickly. Remember; guesswork in your life was a landmine, and _you will not be blown into pieces_.

The two of you stood there for a bit, in silence that felt neither comfortable nor awkward. You handed him a cigarette when he asked, though.

You were mainly thinking about what to have for dinner. You had been eating bland hospital food for the past month or so, and there was obviously more to life than poorly made egg sandwiches and stock soup. You appreciated the efforts, however you could kill for something fulfilling.

A notification came from your phone, which surprised you a little; whenever you left the hospital, you received a new phone with the same number, just a burner that was cheap and didn’t have previous call logs, messages, and media on it. It was to ‘protect the legal identity of the recipient’ and the mental health of the sufferer – doctors advised that this was the best course of action for you (considering your unique condition), so you took the burner option. It helped that at least your number was the same.

You quickly looked at the message. It was Kurusu.

> **+00 XXX XXX XXX** :Hey, this is Akira– I gave you my number in Leblanc? Think curly black hair :).
> 
> **+00 XXX XXX XXX** :There’s a festival at my university, and I’m thinking of inviting a bunch of people to it – u included.
> 
> **+00 XXX XXX XXX** :Did you wanna come? Its at uni B.
> 
> _System Security: This number is unsaved: would you like to create a contact?_

“That was quick.” You mumbled to yourself. You hadn’t expected him to talk literally hours later. Wait at least a day, man.

You placed your cig on the ashtray next to you and typed back.

> **You** : What a coincidence; I study at Uni B.
> 
> **You** :I wasn’t planning to do anything really, so I’d be alright to head to the festival with you and your friends.
> 
> **You** : 😊

It wouldn’t hurt to so something outside for once. You couldn’t avoid meeting people, and it would be poor fashion to blatantly refuse someone who wants to know you. There was only the unknown to look forward to, at the very least, and you did want to see what kind of festival your university organised; you unfortunately missed last year’s.

You eyed Akechi, who remained in his state of disinterest. Your idea of him now was that he didn’t talk much unless necessary, but you had a feeling that he was a snarky little shit when he opened his mouth. You had barely exchanged a word with him, after all.

Would it hurt to be amicable?

Before you could speak up, he beat you to it. “You look like utter crap – did you get out again?”

“What?”

“I’m assuming you just got out of a hospital bed today,” He straightened his posture, breathing out. “Did you forget to speak while you were there? Hah, maybe you should go back for a re-evaluation.”

Well, this was a first. Did he know about the hanahaki? Your hand felt shaky for some reason, as if you were terrified of the concept. You were supposed to be fine with it, weren’t you? There were people who knew, such as the nurses and doctors, so what would one person extra be?

You forced a laugh, using the energy to crush your smoke into the ash tray, in order to cover up the fact your hands were still trembling.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” You shoved your hands into your coat. “Yeah, I did just leave the hospital today. Got a couple of blood tests done first, and then headed to the usual.”

Akechi was not a constant; he was someone who you didn’t remember completely. And he _knew_. You decided you had to try and convince yourself that you were fine with this.

How much did he know? You attempted to gauge what he knew about you, and how that put you at a disadvantage. You were a fish in an ocean with no clue to what sharks looked like anymore; no one wanted to burden themselves with the sick man, and no one wanted the pressure that ‘he might fall in love with you’. Knowing where you stood wasn’t a game – it was survival.

Plus, there was no way you were going to explain your hanahaki to strangers, and no way you were about to confess being a rip-off amnesiac to people who might’ve been close to you.

He raised an eyebrow. “Leblanc? Are you sure you—” He clicked his tongue, stopping his sentence early. A scowl came out of his mouth instead. “You have no sense of self-preservation, do you? You’re going to walk straight into the very things that kill you. You do realise that, surely?”

There was that solved, you figured. It looked like he already knew about your condition, which gave you more questions than answers. Though, something about the roundabout way he was being upset made your heart soften. 

You genuinely laughed, bringing a hand to your face. “Are you _worried_ about me?”

Without skipping a beat, he scowled. “Ridiculous. As if I’d let a pretty emotion like that sway me.” His face had been turned away so you couldn’t see his expression more. “It’s just like you to put words where there are none.”

“Is it?” Your honesty was being masked up again, with the easy-going demeanour reappearing. You didn’t actually know this person in front of you. “I’m glad I didn’t disappoint.”

His eyes were back onto you, but instead of responding like you thought he would, he bit back another sentence. Again, what did he want to say to you but couldn’t? Today was the day of awkward, forgotten acquaintances it seemed, and you were getting sick of it. It was feeling more like a bad premonition than a turn for the better.

The silence between the two of you returns again, but this time Akechi began to get ready to head out. You were feeling the same, but you thought it would be awkward to leave at the same time, opting to have him exit alone.

“You know,” You looked up at him as he spoke. “I wouldn’t recommend heading to that festival.”

“Why?” You didn’t mention going, did you?

He smiled bitterly. “You might fall in love. Wouldn’t want that, would we?”

Why not? After all, it wasn’t as if there was really anything going for you at this point. Just fall in love and die already. You shook off that thought; you wanted to live as much as the next person, and this stupid disease was something you would overcome. You didn’t need love to life, so long as you found happiness.

You gave him a smile. “Hardly foreign at this point, is it?”

A scoff. That got something out of him. “Your need to create connections is absurd. Dying isn’t something to joke about.”

“It’s not ‘creating connections’ – it’s making _friends_.” You smirked. “It’s obvious you don’t know how to.”

“Yes, obviously.”

A pause. “Are you this pessimistic with everyone?”

Instead of gracing you with an answer, he goes to leave, which you took at a win. You almost think that he was ready to look back at you, but he left as he came; quickly and with presence.

That was a lot.

Akechi Goro knew of your hanahaki, knew how it worked, to an extent. He had at least known it to the point that he had familiarized himself enough to it to know what your ‘usual’ was – though it could be barely called that, seeing as you’ve only gone there three times now – and to know that you had some sort of connection with Akira Kurusu. Was he there when you fell in love with him? That would explain why your memories weren’t clear when it came to him.

There was a sense that you had an alliance now, even if it might’ve been superficially. At the very least, he cared about you not dying, but didn’t treat you like a cripple.

Your back ached as you rolled your shoulders, grabbing the bags. You would need to make the mince soon since you stayed out a bit more than you intended.

Still, you felt somewhat positive. Perhaps the universe hated you less than what you originally thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ya girl ain't vibing right, which is why this took so long to write. I've been taking some time away from socials and things, so please excuse the lateness of this lmao  
> also if you see anything wrong, feel free to let me know!
> 
> also..... extreme topic shift but if you like danganronpa games, u should play [this](https://vgperson.com/games/yourturntodie.htm),,,,,,,,,,, it's very nice kanye and it's free to play ~~and I've been wanting to talk to someone about it for so longn hGNNGH~~


	3. roots rot, you know?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been thirty years since my last chapter, and I wanna say that I dipped out of writing for a while, but I'm trying to motivate myself a lot more now!  
> I am working a larger project on top of this, which involves me drawing, writing, and coding by myself, so like always, this won't be receiving consistent updates :(
> 
> I haven't proofread this a lot, and it's unbeta'd, so if you see any mistakes or errors, feel free to let me know!

“You need to be more mindful of your diet,” your doctor tapped her glasses, adjusting them a little before returning to take a sample of your blood, “I understand that you are not a fan of hospital foods, however nutrition should still be on your priority list.”

“It _is_ ,” you insisted. “You can’t tell me you’ve never bit into ordinary chocolate after having something bland or something that didn’t agree with you.”

You seemed to be good at collecting sighs from people, as Dr Mariko heaved one into her palm. “That’s completely different, and you know it. Have some more variety in your diet and focus less on sugars – water is something that you need far more of.”

This was the regular spiel with Mariko. She’d take your blood, ask you about your diet, rant about nutrition, and then tell you to drink some more water.

You would’ve been surprised at her general attitude to you, but half a decade’s worth of patient-doctor meetings, surgeries, and everything else that came with being you…. She was there for most of it. It would’ve been stranger if she hadn’t known your habits, to be honest.

The research that came out from her investigations of your disease were influential to other cases of Hanahaki too; you had known that you were an anomaly, and the repeated nature of your disease gave doctors a chance to see trends, albeit in a limited sample space.

Hanahaki, they say, whilst being a strange and odd disease, typically follows its own ‘rules’. Not that you could really understand from all the medical jargon your nurses or Mariko would throw at you, but apparently your strain behaved the same as the regular disease, all up until the death bit. All the same chemicals, the hormone levels; except you get to be an amnesiac just in time for Halloween, and everyone else dies.

You baffled the doctors by continuing to survive, and they acted like it was the very pinnacle of happiness. It didn’t give you any semblance of joy to know that you were still very sick, besides the superficial gladness that came with still being alive.

Small victories they say, but you wanted to win the war. Small victories, but you’re still sick.

Only when the needle slipped out of your vein and Mariko firmly pressed a cotton bud on the entry point did you tune back into her rant.

“—And I had a further look into your scans today.” She pressed some tape over the cotton. “Dr Mizuno, who did your x-ray last week before you headed out? Yes, he came back to me with the results.”

A smile as you curled you fingers experimentally. You weren’t feeling too unwell from the loss of blood. “Gentleman with the blond hair?” she nodded. “Ah, I remember. And what did he say?”

“Unfortunately, there’s significant scarring on the lungs, mainly concentrated on the left lung.” Her posture straightened. ”The more scarred your lungs are, the less flowers seem to be growing.”

Your eyes narrowed a little.

She continued. “It seems like there’s less room for the flowers to grow, which explains the lack of growth in certain areas pre-surgery, and the lesser amount of roots that needed to be extracted post-expulsion. If you receive Hanahaki again, Dr Mizuno suggested the garden itself would be less severe.”

Another small victory. You tasted poison on your lips and a part of you allowed yourself to be bitter, a harsh laugh leaving you. “The scars that the flowers leave make it more difficult for them to grow, huh? I suppose having a typical garden on top of the whole-body weakness and the fatigue is better than nothing, yeah? Or even the shortness of breath, irregular breathing… Oh, and I guess fuck my lung capacity, right?”

When she gave you no response, you realised how upset you felt. It was unworthy of you to take out your frustrations on someone one who was only trying to help you, even if she was largely ignorant of how you really felt about your shaky position in life. 

You were bitter and angry. You were sad and terrified. You felt numb. Finding the positives almost felt like a mockery and your first reaction was to take it as such.

Finally she spoke. “I should’ve expected that you’d be a lot more cynical than you let on… It isn’t healthy to bottle up your concerns like this. Are you talking with the people in your life?”

Part of you said that you just told yourself that she was ignorant, but you still felt a little upset. ‘She’s dense’, you tried to reason with yourself. You managed to bite back the full-force of your annoyance. “Which ones, Mariko? Which people?” _Who hasn’t let me? Who hasn’t been forgotten?_

She seemed unfazed. “You’re right, I’m sorry. That was… insensitive of me.” She nodded. “If you’d like to see someone… let me know. The program’s always been open to you, so whenever you feel like you need it, or are comfortable to seek some aid; its there.”

That was all you were going to get. At least she was cordial about it, and didn’t fault you too much for your outbursts. Emotional outbursts like that didn’t suit you but you felt like they were going to become more and more common the longer this RHD kept going. The irrationality that came with your delicate situation was always irksome, and you continuously had to struggle to overcome it.

The rest of the visit was concluded with a couple of ‘see you in a fortnight’s and light-hearted joking around.

That was pretty much it for your day; you had slept in until 10AM, and had started to look for jobs that had flexible hours with casual positions open. You only barely remembered your appointment with Mariko at 2PM, luckily avoiding being late.

You glanced at your watch. 2:38PM. Hmmm… you could go for some lunch right about now.

The other week you had mince, and only a couple of days ago you had some okonomiyaki from the traditional food place near your apartment… Maybe it was time for some western food? Burgers were relatively cheap, though fatty…

As you thought more about where you wanted to eat, you noticed the curly black hair of a certain barista.

You mentally sighed. You didn’t want to socialise with him right now, especially since you had already resolved yourself to eat something good. If he saw you about to head to lunch, he could invite himself and then you’d have to buy him food; you were within your rights to not offer him lunch, but then you’d be a bad host. Good hosts would offer to buy lunch, and you needed to give off that impression. 

To reiterate; if you wanted to leave an amicable and friendly impression – which you did, though you felt like he already had some sort of idea about you – you would have to pay, by your own, stupid logic.

And, you did _not_ want to pay for him.

You had a feeling that you’ve been leeched off like this before, and you’d rather spend your money on something better – like yourself.

As you attempted to stealthily make your way away from Kurusu, you heard him say your name.

“I didn’t expect to see you here!” He had ran over to meet you – far too eagerly, in your opinion. “I didn’t expect to see you in here – are you visiting someone, or…?”

A forced smile graced your face. Piss off Kurusu. “…I had just finished some tests.”

“Hmm.” He snaked a hand through his locks, as if he was used it being longer. “Are you about to grab some lunch now?” You thought to yourself that you could just _not_ tell him, but he continued. “If you’re not totally busy, I can shout you something?”

That was the second worse outcome; socialising.

“So long as you’re buying.”

# . . .

Surprisingly, you and Kurusu were engaged in some light discussion. He was an easy talker, contrary to his appearance of a shy, silent person. He seemed a lot more talkative than the other day you met him, but you assumed that outside of work, he was a more sociable type.

Much to your pleasure, he had already made plans and his little lunch hangout with you was as unplanned as it was short-lived. There were a couple things you learnt about him, though.

You had found out that he had been working at LeBlanc for a while now, which surprised you. Kurusu was a stranger and whilst there was no obligation to know his work schedule, it seemed he worked typically outside your visits.

Once Kurusu told you that he had been working there for a bit, he went to explain that Boss had been kind enough to lend him the attic while attending high school.

Interestingly enough, he went to the same school as you; Shujin.

“It’s funny, you know.” He smiled. “I can’t believe I didn’t get it beforehand.”

You had just finished the burger he ordered for you, and were wiping mustard off your fingers. “What’s funny about it?”

“Well,” He ran a hand through his hair. “I think you were usually seated behind me.”

You told him that he must’ve not been that interesting if you couldn’t remember him, though you now couldn’t ignore a possibility that he was definitely a part of your life at one point.

Once he left, you couldn’t help but think about your life thus far.

Plenty of gaps were littered in your memory and although many people thought you had the ability to live as you were, there would always be some difficulty regarding your social life. As evidenced by your illness, you had a habit of falling with people you socialise with a lot ¬– you had the gaps in your memory to prove it.

While you were familiar with the legal issues concerning the identity of the ‘recipients’, you knew that one of the post-flower surgery procedures involved a check whether or not the patient remembered the recipient.

Yes, your disease was a special case (in that, you never received the surgery, since you’d cough up the flowers yourself, and there were multiple recipients) but surely they’d still need to keep track of who you interacted with?

Considering your position, shouldn’t you also have the right to know? What if you met them again, and fell in love, without knowing that they didn’t return those feelings beforehand?

You needed to find out. You needed to understand the social environment you were in before each garden, so that you could avoid it. For your survival, this seemed pretty important. Mixing personal business with medical advice to amnesiac was always going to be difficult, but you decided that’s why you should assume responsibility for informing yourself on who to be wary of.

Instead of going home, you turned and headed towards Mariko’s office.


	4. badly trimmed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which this is more of a chat-fic than a chapter, sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you read this thinking "is she going to use american spelling or uk spelling consistently" please understand that my word document is in uk spelling, and a03 tries to shove american spelling in my face :((( cut me some slack yo

You had already known the laws concerning hanahaki were strict and also provided complication for your condition, however you hadn’t expected a legal door slam into your face when asking to look into your own information. If you were underage, sure, fine, you needed parental consent, however you were an adult. 

That fact, however, didn’t stop Mariko’s sigh as she shook her head. “I’m sorry, but there’s two non-disclosures here that I can’t disobey. Due to the regulations surrounding hanahaki-related NDAs, I—”

“’Cannot show the patient in order to protect the identities of the recipients and the mental health of the patient’. I know this.” You gritted your teeth. “They were instigated by my parents when I was _underage_ , under the Guardian Protection clause, I _know_ this.”

To clarify, Guardian Protection was an option for the guardians of a hanahaki patient to make a request for the recipient and the patient to not interact for nine months after the flower-removal surgery, or until the patient was twenty-one. This option was intended to allow guardians to have a form of protection for underage patients.

You thought it was stupid, because the doctors then had no way concrete way to ascertain whether or not the surgery was successful; measuring hormone levels could only tell so much. You couldn’t argue that for in some cases, the clause protected the victim and the recipient, but you didn’t need that protection right now.

The two NDAs that were filed were for each of the recipients you had fallen in love with, and due to your most recent case being within nine months of the last NDA, apparently they ‘compounded’ or whatever that means.

“I understand your frustration –“ 

“I don’t think you do, Doctor.” You tried relaxing your body, as to not come off so aggressively. You didn’t need to use aggression, you thought. “The clause’s protection only lasts until I’m legally an adult. I turned twenty-one _last year_. Surely you can first ask around before completely denying me, right? It seems like there’s something wrong here.”

The older lady sighed. “Alright. I can’t guarantee anything, but the NDAs have a specific clause which were approved, that state that you needed to be fully-recovered from the hanahaki for nine months per NDA before they can be lifted. And you just got out of hospital for your third case.”

If that was the case, you were screwed. There was scarcely a six month gap between the first recipient and the second; since you were aware of a garden’s presence practically the moment it began….

Why was this so difficult? Why so complicated?

… What should you say now? You wanted this information. There was the option to live your life in ignorance, but this was the third time you had a failed love life, and who knows if you’d survive to the fourth. Should you try and garner pity? You never really were good at making people feel sorry for you, because they seemed to do that all on their own. Mariko had been following your disease long enough however that you’d need to push her to make her feel any sort of guilt. No, guilt wasn’t the feeling you were going for.

“What’s the issue here?” An older doctor that you didn’t recognise came up to the two of you. “Anything I can help with?”

She gave the papers to the new doctor, of which he had a look at. “The patient here would like to access his files, but there’s two NDAs that restrict that access.”

“How old is he?”

“Twenty-two. The NDA was made a little bit before his birthday, but the parents approved a C-15 clause on two occasions.” A C-15? Probably medical jargon.

He shook his head. “He still has rights here, Dr Mariko. Since he’s a legal adult, we can show him a censored copy of his file, but,” The doctor turned to you. “the copy can are allowed to give you will have some information blacked out. It seems one of the recipients wanted their involvement and identity hidden. Is that alright with you?”

“Perfectly.” It hindered you plans, but thank god you could at least look at your own information.

You were given a copy, and you left Mariko’s office. She seemed a bit concerned about the jargon revolving around your case, that wasn’t your issue anymore – you had known that sometimes, when it comes to treatment, there were policies and laws in place that made it harder for people suffering. Of course, Mariko wasn’t an expert either; her field was hanahaki control and related research.

What surprised you the most is that you didn’t realise how manipulative you had become. Make her feel guilty for information? Was that something that seriously went through your brain? Maybe it was the position you were in, but you hardly felt like you were a good person during that interaction.

You had headed into a nearby library and seated yourself down onto a couple of beanbags. They were in a secluded little corner, so you didn’t have to worry too much about nosey people should there be any around.

It was like holding a university thesis; eighteen pages of words that related to a specific topic. Your name was printed in large letters on the front cover, probably a cover that Mariko made quickly before handing it to you. You never received a dossier before, but you guessed that the cover page wouldn’t have been a part of it.

You had spent the last couple of hours reading and digesting the information you had finally gotten your hands on, and came to a couple of conclusions.

Akira Kurusu was the recipient for the first and **second** garden.

That was a hard piece of information to swallow. You had your theories, especially with what happened at the café and at the hospital earlier today, but there was a part of you that reasoned that he wouldn’t try to endanger you a third time by purposely getting close to you, right?

That’s why his friends were so wary of you in LeBlanc; they were either confused by his actions, or were cautious of the amnesiac.

It made you think; was he waiting for you in the hospital?

It frustrated you that he seemed to want you to be in danger – there was no way that he truly wanted to repair any sort of relationship the two of you might’ve had in good conscience. You could understand not wanting to hide his identity, but to seek you out again? To re-introduce himself as a friend? Should you feel upset or hurt? 

You thought that perhaps you should just wait instead, see what he wanted from you. You didn’t need to fall in love with him to find out what exactly he wanted from you. The unknowing foresight you had by accepting his invitation to the festival was brilliant – it was an opportunity to dig a little deeper.

Your phone vibrated.

> **+0%# & &@*(#)@&**: r u gonna raid nighty’s camp today
> 
>  **+0%# & &@*(#)@&**: lemme know I got a dps booster last event lol
> 
> _System Security: This number is unsaved; would you like to create a contact?_

…What? Why was this number so strange?

> **+0%# & &@*(#)@&**: oh right jokers not coming hes moping
> 
> **+0%# & &@*(#)@&**: idk whats wrong w/ him but it’s the opposite of poggers

You put down the dossier and texted back.

> **You** : I think you have the wrong number, sorry.
> 
> **You** : I’m not attempting any sort of raid any time soon :(
> 
> **+0%# & &@*(#)@&**: stranger alert lol
> 
> **+0%# & &@*(#)@&**: uh, sorry about that then! a guy I play with, had this number oof
> 
> **+0%# & &@*(#)@&**: wait no this is off by a digit nvm sorry!
> 
> **You** : Don’t worry about it :) it can happen to anyone.

Nice. That was friendly and cordial. Your eyes went to the display number, which was a little odd; a bunch of random symbols?

> **You** : before you delete this number, can I ask what’s up with yours? It shows up with an assortment of symbols?
> 
> **+0%# & &@*(#)@&**: oh haha lol that’s the encryption key I have installed on this phone
> 
> **+0%# & &@*(#)@&**: ik a bit abt computers and tech so I go ham with security because counter-hacking is a pain and Security Is Good For You
> 
> **+0%# & &@*(#)@&**: not. That I hack. Or anything.
> 
> **+0%# & &@*(#)@&**: uh yeah lol boogle how do I delete a text
> 
> **+0%# & &@*(#)@&**: haha get it cos. I can’t hack my phone to delete texts hahaha
> 
> **+0%# & &@*(#)@&**: brb on a totally unrelated note I need to see a man abt a dog or smth

So they were a hacker. What a weird person. You guessed that they were just being cautious, simply because they knew nothing about you, which was fair, but they can’t have been more obvious. You decided to be a gracious conversational partner, and give the stranger the benefit of the doubt.

You put down your phone and continued reading. The incorrect text definitely had distracted you from the dossier, and you were eager to uncover more.

Aside from Kurusu’s involvement with your condition, the recipient of your most recent garden had filed to keep their anonymity, with all their details black out. Part of you said that you really didn’t need to know more – your investigations were already pushing the limits of what you usually set yourself, but you had decided that it was time to take some control back from your disease.

The future, you thought, would listen to _you_ whether it would like to or not.

Your mind thought about this anonymous third person and the flower you coughed up – angel’s trumpets, the poisonous, hallucination inducing plant. You scoffed to yourself; were you really the type of person who allowed themselves to be poisoned?

There were more results concerning the flower’s meaning than you thought they’d be, which helped a little.

> **Angel's Trumpet** symbolic **meaning** generally leans towards health and vivacity, but it can also - in reference to it's poisonous nature - **mean** intoxicating or to "be intoxicated". 

To be intoxicated. You had read in forums and chats that people often thought the flower that a victim of hanahaki coughed up would indicate the type of feelings involved, or the general fate of the love they would have, which spelled destruction for you. The word was something you felt didn't really belong to you, in that you never thought you would be the type of person that would lose themselves in something. If there was really a purpose to the type of flower you coughed up and it symbolized your 'love', then you must've known you'd be doomed from the start.

You started to taste the memory of bitterness on your tongue. You must've known what you were getting yourself into, and you must've opted to stay intoxicated in favor of holding on. Why didn't you try to fall out of love? Climb out of it and persevere? Well, you could ask yourself all these questions if you wanted to, but you wouldn't be receiving any closure from one-sided mental dialogues.

> **ALIBABA** : hihi so uh im back and didn’t do anything sus, just boogled how to change a display name whilst keeping the number encrypted

Oh, they’re back. And with a name this time.

> **You** : I take it you’re a fan of Aladdin? Or at least Arabian nights?
> 
> **ALIBABA** : i went by it a couple of years ago so idk where I got it from tbh
> 
> **ALIBABA** : yeah so probs Aladdin
> 
> **ALIBABA** : you’re being really chill with a total stranger btw
> 
> **ALIBABA** : not that it’s weird or anything but like not many people are lol
> 
> **You** : You’re carrying this conversation, mind you.
> 
> **You** : I’m just responding when I can, haha
> 
> **ALIBABA** : oh lol are you doing smth?
> 
> **You** : I’m just doing a bit of reading, nothing totally interesting
> 
> **You** : You texting me has been pretty much the point of interest for the day
> 
> **ALIBABA** : what r u reading? Is it like, a comic or smth? fanfiction? I don’t judge dude, unless it’s like idk cubecraft xfics with mobs or whatever
> 
> **You** : like I said, nothing totally interesting, just a file haha.
> 
> **ALIBABA** : naughty boy, r u at work? >:3
> 
> **ALIBABA** : wait shit how old r u
> 
> **ALIBABA** : should I be using honorifics
> 
> **ALIBABA** : like old people honorifics
> 
> **ALIBABA** : honourable head of house, I beseech thee to impart thy age upon my humble self

This person was actually kinda funny, to be fair. You were only rally playing along with them out of politeness, but they didn’t seem too bad of a person.

It wouldn’t hurt to know someone completely removed from your actual life – you hadn’t been too good at keeping in touch with online friends that you’ve made, but you had feeling that this Alibaba was the type to reach out first.

It was time to take a break from reading the dossier too; too many questions and not enough answers. In addition to that, there were just too many instances of medical jargon you weren’t familiar with – you’d have to sit at a computer and look up a lot of terms later.

> _System Security: contact saved under “ALIBABA”._
> 
> **You** : that’s *mine humble self :)
> 
>  **You** : Haha, don’t worry too much; I’m in my early twenties
> 
>  **You** : You can keep calling me honourable head of house, though :) I wouldn’t mind the respect
> 
>  **ALIBABA** : oooooh lol ok so you’re only a couple of years older than me alright fair fair
> 
>  **ALIBABA** : and maybe on occasion >:33
> 
>  **ALIBABA** : which means when I feel like it haha
> 
>  **ALIBABA** : but a file huh? U have an office job already?
> 
>  **You** : it’s just a medical document, so no
> 
>  **You** : I can’t work in an office so I have part-time jobs here and there
> 
>  **ALIBABA** : oooh my brother used to do a bunch of part time stuff so I getcha 

The conversation between Alibaba and yourself was genuinely enjoyable, and it made you realise how nice it felt to have people that you didn’t need to manoeuvre around or play some sort of high stakes game with. It felt good to feel like a normal person again.

They ended up having to leave – for what you assumed was the raid they mentioned beforehand – and that provided you own cue to leave as well; the library was closing for the day, and you had a document to think about.

The dossier definitely confirmed your suspicions about Akira, however, and gave you new questions about the raven-head: what did he want from you now? And could you even provide it?

It was something that you’d have to ride out – there was no quick and effective way to gather that sort of information, and this was probably the best thing to keep yourself occupied for the time being. There was always going to be a point where you would run out of things to do independently, and always a time where you would need to interact with people. With your newfound goal of uncovering the circumstances that was your life, you’d need to utilise your connections and interact with people.

It was going to be a lot of work, but it was infinitely better than waiting for something to occur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yah anyone know how to make rpgmaker mv mini games? jk jk  
> but if you're open to comms :eyes:,,,,,,,,,,,,,
> 
> also! i'll apologise in general cos the updates for this thing are gonna be sparse, and I can't help that :( I'm trying to churn out good chapters whilst doing holiday hours at work and working on my project :(((((( thank you for your reading, however, and have a good one!
> 
> NOTE: unedited and unbeta'd as per usual! if you see a mistake and feel like telling me, lemme know in the comments^^


	5. bloom

Little under a week had passed since the reclamation of your own dossier, and finally the festival that Kurusu had invited you to was here. University B’s grassed area had been turned into a vibrant festival, despite the chill in the air. You had never really paid much attention to the events that surrounded your university, partly because it felt a little useless to ponder on it.

Though, in contrast of the vibrancy, Kurusu’s entourage had been giving you the most cautious case of stink eye that you had ever bore witness to. It was obvious that they’d known you, and in light of the recent news of Kurusu’s involvement with you, their caution was understood.

But, you found yourself asking, couldn’t they just be a little more subtle about it? It was hard trying to remain friendly under their watchful scrutiny. On top of it all, your newfound apprehension of Kurusu made their worried glances even more annoying – it was their friend that was endangering your life, after all.

“They definitely upped it from last year,” Your eyes slid to the raven-head, who had been glancing at the pop-up stalls. “I don’t remember them having the budget to afford an ice rink.” 

You hummed. “It does look decently higher quality than most university-organised festivals. You think they got more funding?”

“Absolutely not,” Kurusu chuckled. “They just made the classes cheap out as much as possible. Cutting down on the ‘unnecessary’ things here and there.”

You wouldn’t know. “That’s how it’s done, I suppose. Still, an ice rink is a good touch.”

You were shit at ice-skating, you mentally noted. There was always something about how skating on the ice felt, and how you never managed to retain your balance. That being said, someone once told you that if not for the fact you fell over every thirty seconds, you would’ve had beautiful form. Whatever that meant.

On that note, you certainly weren’t planning to become an ice-skater. The probability of you taking a sport professionally was considerably lessened anyway, with the aftermath of surviving multiple gardens. Mentally you scoffed. You guessed that no one really cared about what would remain with you after surviving – they seemed to really only care that you were still alive to begin with.

After a little while of small talk and walking around to see what the university had to offer, the group had settled on breaking off into smaller groups to check out events and stalls in particular. Kurusu had weirdly insisted to stick with you, of which you assumed was because it aligned with that hidden agenda of his.

Something about his actions baffled you; it wasn’t difficult to find malice in friendliness if you were pessimistic enough, however there was a part of you that had to ask what he gained from it. He knew you, and you were ill-equipped. Though, all you needed was the information that he was not a stranger to you – and for sanity’s sake, to your condition.

Although, how his sister being there with the two of you was something you weren’t sure would factor into his plans.

You had brief memories of Futaba Sakura. The two of you hadn’t interacted much at all; you had vaguely remembered that she had re-entered school in your third year, and she was a couple years younger than you. She seemed a lot more… casual than she was back at Shujin, and a lot more comfortable strangers.

It was difficult to say otherwise considering that she seemed to be genuinely interested to what you had to say.

“You’re going to the same university as Akira, huh?” She had placed herself between Kurusu and yourself.

“That’s correct,” She seemed a little… out of character? Not that you could make any accurate guesses. “Kurusu hasn’t said much about it, though.”

“Not much to tell, if I’m being honest.” He huffed. “I’m doing business; nothing world shaking.”

You chuckled. “Sounds pretty interesting though. You really need an interest in those sorts of things to study them.”

“He’s not any good at it. The amount of times he’s been complaining to me about the assignments he gets; you’d believe me if I told you he was a gangster.” She started to lower her voice. “Futaba, can you go into the system, Futaba, I’m dying—”

“That’s not true in the slightest – don’t make me tell Boss you’re lying to one of his regulars.” He brushed the bridge of his nose.

“I’ll tell Dad that, don’t worry. What will he do if ‘Blueberry’ over here doesn’t come because someone sucks at studying and is a bad influence?”

That was odd. “Blueberry?”

She turned to you. You noticed that she was avoiding looking you in the eyes, but you didn’t take it personally. People sometimes disliked eye contact, and Sakura was probably still wary around you. “That’s Dad’s nickname for you; that old guy at LeBlanc? He’s a bit of a tsundere, but he really does like the muffins you bring.”

That was nice. An acquaintanceship with no strings attached. It felt like how you imagine a nickname for an old friend would feel. “It’s surprisingly cute for an old man.”

Kurusu chuckled. “You’re telling us. He’s standoffish, but he’s a good guy.” He ran a hand through his hair. “What about you? How are your parents?”

Didn’t he know, or was this a ploy to pretend he didn’t? He knew you twice now, and you couldn’t imagine you were the same person you were in those first two gardens, but he surely would’ve met your parents.

“… They’re fine. They tend to be worried about my grades, considering some circumstances.” You smiled. You wondered whether or not he was feigning his ignorance, or he genuinely didn’t know. It was hard to tell, being the person you were. “I have a condition that interferes with university, so I guess they have a good reason to be concerned.”

It seemed like your plan to get a reaction out of him worked; his face had turned from a good-natured smile to the plain, neutral face he had when he met you in LeBlanc earlier in the month. How would he play his cards now? You didn’t think that he suspected anything on your part, and maybe just had the audacity to pity you a little.

“I mean, surely it’s not too bad?” Sakura spoke up. “Your grades, I mean. Universities have health plans and bonuses for you, right?”

“I’ve got an army of medical certificates at my side, Sakura. I don’t even feel like I’m getting a degree with all the work I’m allowed to skip. My grades are enough to pass, which is really all I need.”

There was a pause before Kurusu spoke. “… Is it your memory?”

“Well, congratulations, Kurusu,” You laughed, “for being brave.”

Regardless of your thoughts concerning him, you still derived some sort of amusement that came with his courage. Not many people asked. Not many people really cared to ask more about your condition, happily accepting your face value words. You appreciated that, however; most people knew their boundaries with others.

Kurusu seemed to think that he was still close to you, which was braver than you expected from him. He was testing the waters, to say.

Embracing the feeling of pressing your advantage, you continued. “Yes. I have a condition that sometimes prevents me from leaving the hospital for months at a time, and afterwards, I recover with significant gaps in my memory. Typically, it takes a while to get to that point but…” You smiled. “What happens, happens, hmm? I’m not the best at group assignments, that’s for sure.”

You hated talking about it so out in the open. You preferred subtly more than you preferred being loud – what good would it do for everyone to know? But, a card for a card. Kurusu made his play, and you would respond in kind. This was the interrogation you designed; a sacrifice of your preferences in exchange for his slip-ups.

What you didn’t expect, however, was the silence that followed your response.

Your gaze went to the older sibling, and you supressed the urge to scoff. He backed down after a single prod, which left your playful mood in shambles. Just when you were getting somewhere, you thought. You guessed that you should recover the mood while the awkwardness hadn’t settled in.

“Don’t look so down, Kurusu, Sakura.” You gave them a thumbs up. “Circumstances aside, I believe we have a festival to enjoy?”

“Absolutely!” Sakura seemed considerably more ready to move on. She briefly met your eyes before looking away. “I kinda want to drag Akira off somewhere; are you any good at shooting?”

“No. I’m terrible with anything that involves aiming, sorry Sakura.” You shrugged. “It’ll work out for me if you two go shooting; I’m thinking of having a quick smoke.”

Kurusu gave you a look you could only decipher as concern. You really didn’t feel like telling him that as much as he thought he could involve himself in your business, you weren’t going to tolerate him trying to change your habits, no matter how bad they were.

The two of them left without much talk, and you headed towards what you assumed to be a set up smoker’s alley for the festival. Your bitterness towards Kurusu was catching up to you, especially when you took a moment to recollect what you found out in your file.

Two gardens. Two life threatening situations. That was two times you had fallen in love with him, and you knew why; there was no doubt that he tended to be a good person most of the time, something you could admire, and he was attractive. Those traits tended to be something most people fell for, and you were probably no different. If you weren’t the calculating bastard that you were now, you probably would’ve fallen for him again; a bit of affection here and there, and you’d be smitten. You probably were, back then.

And, after looking through your scrapbook and glancing at the two flowers again, you could guess what kind of love you might’ve felt, if you succumbed to believing in the superstitions regarding hanahaki; the first flower was lilacs -- apparently common in Hanahaki cases – a flower that meant something along the lines of a pure, first love, and; yellow tulips, symbolising purity, cheerfulness, and hope.

You had spent far too long psychoanalysing the people you must’ve been in order for these flowers to grow in your lungs, but came to the pessimistic realisation that in each time you had fallen in love with Kurusu, it was always a genuine, whole-hearted sort love. What a pity, you thought, that you had fallen for someone who didn’t love you back. 

A sigh left your body as you grabbed your pack. There’s no helping it – no one had an obligation, or actually should, fall in love with someone just because the person’s in love with them. In what world was that right?

And it wasn’t as if you were bitter at being rejected; you just hated the way you got sicker with each time, and it didn’t help that you were a stranger in your own life. Habits that you formed during each garden would remain with you, but it’s not as if you could remember why they begun in the first place. Why you started to smoke, why you visited Leblanc -- though you had reason to believe that it involved Kurusu; you wouldn’t know.

“I’d say I’m surprised, but…” you looked up to meet the red eyes of Akechi Goro. “It would’ve been too much for you to just stay home, wouldn’t it?”

Of course, you had to meet him everywhere. You laughed, lighting a cigarette. “I’d hate to comply to your expectations.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new year!!!!!!! i thought I should give ya'll an update to celebrate, so! :DDD  
> I pumped this bad boy out really quickly, and this is unbeta'd and not too edited, so if you spot any mistakes, feel free to let me know! I tried editing this one a lot more just cos of how quickly i wanted to finish writing it


	6. lilac shadows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me? upload kinda consistently? bruh

He scowled at you, in a way that was typical of him. If it were another person, you’d probably ask to just spit out whatever he was thinking, but you were content to leave sleeping Akechis lie.

You noticed that he was a person that was meticulous about his appearance – whether it was because he used to be a well-known public figure was up for debate; you could tell he put considerable effort to look neat today. That, and you hadn’t seen him as a mess yet.

“Silly of me to think you had two brain-cells to rub together.” He scoffed, taking a seat next to you. All bark and no bite, for now. “I didn’t think Akira was still convincing enough to string you along wherever he pleased.”

That made you raise your eyebrows. “You’re acquainted?”

He sighed as if he’d expected you to say that. “More than I’d like to admit. He’s been a…. he was a roughly positive influence.”

So he knew Kurusu well. You doubted that it was through you; something told you that the two had a history together, though you weren’t sure if it was just positive enough, like he was suggesting, or some influence larger than a casual remark. Well, Akechi seemed to have a habit of downplaying anything good in his life, so you could figure it out from there.

It was surprising to find that Akechi was a link between you and Kurusu, which made you consider re-evaluating your stance with him. Did Akechi know who the third garden was for? Was that why he was so familiar with your condition; because he had seen it as an observer? If he was related to Kurusu in some way, then he would’ve been at least aware of your condition during the first and second gardens.

It checked out.

“So you know me through Kurusu, huh?” You thought.

He laughed, making you realise you had said it out loud instead. “For lack of a better way of explaining, yes, Akira was the one who… introduced you.” He gave you a glance. “It was in a far more indirect way than you’re imagining, by the way. Don’t think too hard on it.”

You extinguished your smoke. “It’s difficult not to when my memory’s not like yours.”

“Do you think it’ll do you any better knowing exactly what’s happened to you?”

You scoffed. “Wouldn’t you like to know what’s happened to you? Maybe you wouldn’t get it, but I think the sound of closure is much better than whatever ignorance has to offer.”

Of course, no one needed love to be happy, but closure was a different story. It was stranger to want to remain completely unaware than to investigate a hole-filled past. Every amnesiac that you’ve seen in movies and games had expressed a desire to know what’s happened to them; why should you be different? 

“No, I know _exactly_ what you mean, better than most even. I’m asking if you think it’ll help.” He clasped his gloved hands together, locking his red eyes onto yours. “Is thinking about it more worth to you than moving on already?”

You couldn’t answer that confidentially, but you had just tip-toed past your boundaries. Rather than the truth being worth more than moving on, you were worthy of being told the truth.

“Not everything can be calculated on cost-benefit, you know.” A chuckle came out of you. “I think I deserve to know what the hell has happened to me. If you had a tragedy happen to you, would you rather live in ignorance knowing it’s a lie – your peace, that is – or would you confront it, no matter how painful it is?”

That earned you his silence. It wasn’t meant to be a question as much as it was a confirmation of your beliefs – and Akechi seemed to be more aligned with you than what you original impression of him gave off.

For some odd, peculiar reason, he had the sort to presence that made it easy to breathe; with others, you were on edge constantly, maneuvering and dancing on topics like you were a step away from socially becoming isolated. It was certainly refreshing that he simultaneously managed to keep you at an arm’s length, but still made you feel like there was some sort of bond was there.

Or perhaps you were overthinking it too much.

You were in your little world until you heard him say your name with a softness you were unaccustomed to, a vast contrast to the question he asked. “How’s your condition?”

If there was a topic you hated discussing it was that stupid RHD, but… the words that Mariko told you came back to your head; were you talking to anyone about this? You didn’t have a therapist – you considered yourself enough of a financial burden to your parents without the expensive therapy. Not that you thought he could help in the same way a professional probably could. Why did he even care?

You couldn’t help but speculate, as well. Why did he ask? The paranoia that this was an exchange in which you were on the losing side, if any, was difficult to circumvent, and it was cumbersome to bear.

It wasn’t that cold, but you couldn’t stop your hands from shaking a little, so you casually put them into your coat. You already had stepped past your comfort zone with the dossier; you couldn’t back down from some hidden fear.

“It’s…” You didn’t know how to talk genuinely about it. “There’s a lot of scar tissue, which means that the next garden, if I even get one, will be smaller. That being said, due to the composition of the latest flower… well, its toxins screwed me over.”

“Toxins? It was poisonous?”

It was getting uncomfortable. Speaking about it like that, speaking about it in such a way that you were left _vulnerable_ wasn’t something that you liked doing, if at all. You were a fish that forgot what sharks looked like. This was survival. You were trying to survive.

You tried to mask your discomfort, and smiled. “Yeah. Angel’s Trumpet, this time. I found out that it’s got a hallucinogenic affect, along with some other, drug-like symptoms when you eat it. Too much can kill you. Since it was growing inside me… well, you can guess I got affected.”

Akechi was quiet for a little, his gaze going to the hands in your coat. You chose to ignore it, favoring to not egg on your paranoia more than it needed. He couldn’t have known you that well, you justified to yourself.

“There’s nothing they can do? They probably knew that the garden was dangerous; didn’t you have medication?” He sounded like his usual, curt self, but with an edge of annoyance.

You thought about it, but every time you tried to edge into a rose-tinted memory, your brain grew hazy and muddled, like you were slowly drifting away from sobriety. You tried harder, grasping at any fragment that didn’t involve a you that was in love.

There was only a single glimpse you remembered.  
It was a weak memory, one that left you shivering. The rain in the background drowned out the music of a local club, one you recognized. It was a laid-back club, but you never recalled ever entering. In the memory, your hands were shaking. You were trying to open a bottle, which you assumed was some medication, but you couldn’t tell if it were the cold, the rain, or some sort of fear that made you shake so much that you couldn’t open a bottle.

You knew what the bottle was, though; a sydosene suppressor. Sydosene was loosely explained to you as a hormone that the flowers produce in order to encourage growth in the lungs, and that the suppressor was prescribed to any sufferers of hanahaki. It was a cut-and-paste method of controlling flower growth, but did nothing for toxins that the flowers may emit.

The headache that lingered after you regained some semblance of time and place was strong, causing you to wince slightly. You didn’t notice Akechi staring at you until you heard his voice. “Where did you go?”

_I don’t know, to be honest._

“I tried to remember some other medication. I think I only received just normal medication for hanahaki. Nothing else,” You felt terrible. Your head was swimming, and cold sweat had broken out on your body.

It all boiled down to being unlucky, something of which you tried to contend – after all, you had your whole life to prove you were not just a circumstance, but a person – but it was hard to deny the negatives of your condition; those aspects that created this image of misfortune to begin with. People thought it was bad to have hanahaki in the first place, and you can’t have imagined what others would think should your disease become more public.

“They don’t know a lot concerning it. It would be laughable if it didn’t involve your life, you know.”

You laughed, causing your headache to worsen a little bit more. “It would’ve been too easy otherwise. There just weren’t enough reasons as to why this whole thing is terrible.”

“Heh, you’re right.” A small huff of amusement came out of him. “But, I’m glad to see that, if anything, you seem a lot more determined.”

That was new. “What do you mean?”

“Before, you looked like you were learning to give up, without even trying in the first place,” He clicked his tongue. “I’m probably not the best person to judge, however, considering the state you were in when I dragged you to the hospital. Granted, no one would look determined in that circumstance.”

“You… took me to the hospital before?”

He nodded. “Your personal doctor informed me that you weren’t conscious, so it makes sense that you can’t recall it.”

This was something you never knew. 

You mind went back to the dossier, back to the notes written concerning the second garden. You didn’t worry about it at the time, but it was written that an anonymous person had delivered you to the hospital after finding you collapsed in an alleyway. But, that anonymous person meant to be Akechi? You had assumed that Akechi had met you though Kurusu in a class-related thing, not that he had met you outside of Kurusu’s own introductions. No, from the looks of it, it was pure happen-chance.

That begged the question, however; how _was_ Kurusu involved in this? Akechi himself said that the barista was indirectly responsible for their first meeting. Didn’t that mean that—

Oh. It meant that Akechi knew that Kurusu was the recipient of your two gardens. That would’ve explained his knowledge of you and the familiarity he had with RHD. He knew him personally as well, so he would’ve probably known you since your first garden.

You wanted to say that Akechi had done the same thing Kurusu was doing to you— luring you into friendship in order to enact some kind of hidden, ulterior motive – but where the raven-head acted as if he had never known you to begin with, Akechi had almost instantly settled to treating you as the you he knew, and adapted with any changes. You didn’t feel the anxiety of not being ahead of everyone else with Akechi, and he seemed more truthful to you than you were to him.

Was this really the time to doubt your only potential ally?

You winced. You needed to learn to stop treating your social life like a war— with paranoia and with a desire to _win_.

“I know you’re very talented at overthinking,” Akechi sighed as he stood up. “But don’t take it too far, alright? Might lose the last of the brain cells you have.”

“And I can’t even ask you to spare any, either,” you laughed.

“Yeah, yeah, sure. I’ll catch you around.”

Part of you thought that he would stick around for a little longer, but the man was exactly like a cat – went wherever he pleased, left whenever he wanted, and had the same snarky attitude.

His departure also prompted you to consider your own; you had spent enough time here, and Kurusu and co. were probably expecting your presence, even if they might’ve been glad to be rid of it. 

You laughed at your thoughts, wiping away ash from your pants. Akechi was pessimistic, but clearly you were a strong contender.

In line of those thoughts, your mind drifted to your first two gardens, the ones with all the hopeful love and innocence, and etcetera; you were definitely not the person you used to be. You can’t have been anyway – remove a bunch of someone’s memories, and they’ll always end up being different than they were.

You weren’t sure who Kurusu was expecting but you had a feeling that he died to hanahaki a while ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for my next magic trick, watch as i don't post for a month right after you read the beginning author's note


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